


Generations

by stjarna



Series: Engineering vs Biochem - 2017 (Team Engineering) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Prompt: space, Star Gazing, focus on Jemma, generations, mention of MCD (old age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 13:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11533503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Based on the prompt "Space" for Fanwork Friday organized by The Fitzsimmons Network.A bit of family tradition.





	Generations

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @agl03 for being my beta.
> 
> Banner by me.

Jemma grunts in annoyance. The book in her hands is getting incredibly heavy.

_Having to lie flat on your back and trying to read is really not the most optimal situation._

Eventually, she sighs, dropping her arms so that the large and heavy volume rests on her chest. She grimaces in pain, feeling the incision site from her surgery.

Jemma turns her head when she hears the door to her room being pushed open further than the narrow gap her Mum had left when she’d exited earlier.

“How are we doing up here?” her Dad says quietly; his smile warm as he peeks into the room.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “I’m bored. The books get too heavy when I hold them up. I’m not allowed to sit up straight to watch TV. There really aren’t a lot of activities besides sleeping that can be done while flat on your back.”

Her Dad takes a step inside, closing the door halfway behind him. “I suppose that’s true.”

Disgruntled, Jemma gestures at the ceiling. “Would you like to know how many knotholes or planks my ceiling has? Because I’ve counted them.”

Her Dad slumps his shoulders, his eyes looking at her rather pitiful. “Oh, Jemma. I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, he walks over to her bed, and lies down next to her, his eyes wandering to the whitewashed wooden ceiling.

“Huh,” he mutters in surprise. “There really are quite a lot of knotholes.”

“I even tried to play connect the dots with them. See if I can discover any special shapes.”

“Oh,” her Dad exclaims in surprise, turning his head slightly in her direction. “You know what, I think I may have just come up with a brilliant idea for an activity that can be done quite perfectly while flat on your back.”

“Really?” Jemma’s lips pull into a wide, hopeful smile. “What is it?”

Her Dad grins back at her, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’ll see. Tonight. When it’s dark.”

* * *

* * *

Jemma unlocks the front door to their cottage and pushes it open. She puts down her briefcase, takes off her shoes, and hangs up her jacket, before venturing further into her home.

She peeks into the kitchen, and sees Fitz, carrying Lily on his hip, his head and free arm buried in their tall upright freezer. He rummages around and moments later resurfaces, holding on tight to two large bags.

“Oh hey,” he exclaims in surprise as his lips pull into a welcoming smile.

“Mummy,” their two-year-old exclaims, extending her arms in Jemma’s direction, and Jemma can’t help but smile.

She takes Lily from Fitz, leans forward to place a soft welcome kiss to Fitz’s lips, and tilts her head to get a better look at the two bags dangling in his hand.

She straightens up, looking at her husband with wide-open eyes. “Chicken nuggets and French fries? That bad?”

Fitz presses his lips into a thin line, nodding ever so slightly. “He’s read through every book, played every game, watched every video I’ve allowed him too. He’s beyond bored and no amount of time with Lillybutt or myself made it better.” He shrugs. “Figured the least I can do is make his favorite food.”

Jemma pushes her lower lip forward, furrowing her brows. “Poor Monkey. I’ll check on him.”

* * *

Carefully, Jemma pushes the door to Iain’s bedroom open a bit further and sees their six-year-old in bed. His right leg is propped up and in a cast, and so is his right arm. His forehead and right temple are decorated with a large scab that has barely begun to heal, and his right eye is still bruised and swollen. And yet, his injuries don’t seem half as painful as the way in which he squints his eyes, staring at the TV his dad had set up with a mix of frustration, anger, and annoyance.

“Hey,” Jemma says quietly, opening the door all the way and taking a step inside.

Iain’s eyes dart in her direction but he doesn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling?” Jemma adds, even though she’s fairly certain she can predict his answer.

Her son crosses his arms in front of his chest, the process made more difficult by the cast. “Bored,” her growls, refusing to look at her.

A weak smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “So I heard. I know it’s hard—”

“No you don’t.” Iain’s head shoots around and he glares at her furiously. “Bet the doctor never told you that you had to stay in bed all. the. time.”

Jemma can’t help but chuckle as an idea pops into her head. Slowly, she walks over to her son’s bed and sits down next to him. “Actually. He did.”

* * *

* * *

Anne points to the sky, her arm draped around her daughter, who’s wrapped in a warm blanket, holding on tightly to her cup of hot chocolate. “Alright. So that’s the Plough, remember?”

Meg nods quietly, her eyes fixed on the stars above. “And that’s part of Ursa Major, right?”

A proud smile appears on Anne’s lips as she turns her head briefly to look at her daughter. “Exactly. Very good, honey!” She lets her eyes wander back to the star constellation they’d just been talking about, and points at the star furthest to the right. “Now that star there, to top right one of the bowl… can you tell which one I mean?”

“Yeah,” Meg replies, her voice barely above a whisper as she stares entirely mesmerized at the night sky.

“That one is called Dubhe,” Anne explains. “And it’s the second brightest star in this constellation. It’s one hundred twenty four light-years away.”

Anne glances at her daughter, noticing how her eyes widen slightly while her mouth hangs ajar when she hears the distance from Earth to the star.

“Now, the one below Dubhe is called Merak,” Anne continues. “And it’s much closer—only seventy-nine light-years away. But even though it’s closer, it’s not as bright as Dubhe.”

“That’s so cool,” Meg mumbles under her breath and Anna can’t help but smile.

“Now, here comes the fun part.” Anne raises her index finger importantly, before pointing back at the Plough constellation. “If you take the distance between Dubhe and Merak and then you extend it five times in that direction.” She draws an imaginary upward line on the horizon. “Then you get to Polaris, the North Star. Can you see it?”

“I think so,” her daughter replies quietly, a smile brightening her eyes, which are fixed on the right spot in the sky.

“It’s part of the Ursa Minor constellation, or Little Bear, and it appears practically motionless. It’s a fixed point, which makes it very important for celestial navigation and for astrometry.”

Slowly, Meg’s head turns to face her mother, awe and admiration in her expression. “How do you know all that, mummy?

Anne can’t help but chuckle. “Well, your great-grandmother taught your Grandpa Iain all about it and the two of them taught me all about it, and now I’m telling you all about it.” Playfully, Anne boops her daughter’s nose. “It’s a family tradition.”

Meg’s lips pull ear-to-ear. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Anne replies, smiling widely herself. “See, when your Grandpa Iain was six, he had an accident. He fell out of a tree and broke an arm, and a leg, and he had a concussion. And he wasn't allowed to get out of bed for a while. And he was very bored and kinda angry about that. And he didn’t think anyone understood him. But then his mum, your great-grandma, told him that she understood very well, because when she was a kid, she wasn’t allowed to get out of bed because she had had surgery on her back, and her dad came up with the idea of rolling her bed outside at night and teaching her all about the stars, because that she could do while lying down. And so, when your Grandpa Iain couldn’t leave his bed, she and your great-grandpa pushed your Grandpa out onto the big balcony they had and she told him all about the stars. And then when I was little, and she would come visit, your Grandpa Iain and her took me outside… although I was lucky enough that I wasn’t bedridden.”

“Is she still alive?” Meg asks, adoration lacing her voice.

Anne presses her lips into a thin line. “No, honey, I’m sorry. But you would have liked her,” she adds, a smile reappearing on her lips. “She was a scientist, biology and chemistry, and she had the most amazing stories to tell, of aliens, and alien planets, and space stations.”

Meg’s mouth gapes ajar and her eyes double in size. “Really?”

“Yeah. She and your great-grandpa were a science duo. Smart like you. Inquisitive. And they worked for a secret spy organization. Oh, you would have liked her so much, Meg. Both really, but especially her. You remind me of her. Maybe your Grandpa Iain can tell you some of her stories. He tells them much better than me.”

Slowly, the smile on Meg’s face fades, as her eyes wander back to the night sky. “Do you think she’s up there now? Jonah Wilkerson said that people go to Heaven when they die.”

Anne tries to suppress a chuckle by clearing her throat instead. She sighs, pulling her daughter closer. “Well, in our family, we see things a bit differently.” Anne inhales slowly, lifting her head to gaze at the stars. “See, there’s this thing called 'The First Law of Thermodynamics'.”


End file.
